


Hot Off the Press

by Fictionalcasualties



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, hockey player/reporter au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 02:25:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19308727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictionalcasualties/pseuds/Fictionalcasualties
Summary: This was a tumblr post a while back, but after a few requests to post it on ao3 I have been convinced.This is the au where Eric Bittle is a genius reporter with top-notch credentials and Jack is the professional hockey player Bitty sticks up for when people ask invasive questions that have nothing to do with hockey.





	Hot Off the Press

“Are you into men?” 

Jack has been asked this question before, but in such a subtle way (and typically involving Parson) that it’s easy to avoid. No reporter has ever straight out asked him. Besides, he’s not gay. He’s bisexual. So when Jack usually tells them, “No.” it’s not a lie. However, this time it feels different. Maybe it wasn't just this particular time, but all the times added onto each other that's finally causing him to really think about what hole he's digging himself into. 

The blunt question has him feeling panicky and the other presser notice his reaction too. Jack can’t say no, because that’s not true. He is into men. Jack’s panic quickly shifts, and now he just feels like shoving the microphones away and storming out, because this is hockey goddammit. Not E! news. 

“Excuse me?” Jack clears his throat, trying to buy himself some time to think of a properly crafted response. Over the years, he's developed a talent for that. 

But everything is on overdrive and he feels his breath start to quicken again--

“Are you into men?” Another reporter asks, and it takes Jack a moment to realize that the reporter isn’t asking him. He’s asking the man who popped the question in the first place.

All attention, including Jack’s, turns to the small blonde that got lost in the bundle of people. He holds up his mic towards the reporter who popped the question in the first place. 

“Excuse me?” The man mimics Jack, but not intentionally. The man actually looks quite offended to be asked in the first place.

“You don’t like being asked such a personal question do you, Tom?” This reporter has a southern accent that makes him stand out even more among the various presser. 

“Shut up, Eric. You’re wasting time as usual--”

“I beg to differ.” Eric snorts. “Last time I checked we are supposed to ask Mr. Zimmermann about his win against Pittsburgh, yet here you are, wasting time asking about something irrelevant to your job. Which is reporting on hockey games.”

“What do you know?” Tom rolls his eyes. He was significantly older than Eric. “Go back to reporting the Junior League, Bittle. I'm still perplexed as to how you even got this job.”

Jack suddenly realizes that the two men about ready to attack each other know one another, possibly on a level outside of their jobs. It was an assumption, but they did use first names. Jack has never, in all his three years of being in the NHL, witnessed a fight break out between two reporters mid-interview. Jack just stands there awkwardly, feeling gross and sweaty as the adrenaline from his recent win dies down. 

“Anyway,” Eric Bittle bristles, shouldering his way to the front where he can hold his microphone in front of Jack. “I do believe you scored the winning goal just twenty minutes ago. Very nice. How do you think the remainder of the season is looking?” It sounds like Eric is trying to hide his accent, and Jack is temporarily distracted by his big brown eyes. Then he gets himself together, like he always does, and talks about what he’s good at: Hockey.

***

The second time the same sports reporter defends him, it’s when Pittsburgh beats them on home ice. It’s been at least two months since Jack has even heard about the guy. Eric Bittle writes very little articles, but is used as a credible source for dozens of others. 

“Do you think your overdose set you back? With your talent, you could have surpassed your father in records by now.”

It was certainly a backhanded compliment, and it’s not the first time someone has said this to him. Although some days, especially today, Jack really isn’t in the mood. It’s so irrelevant to the subject at hand, that it is blatantly disrespectful. However, just as Jack nearly snaps, a familiar voice speaks up from the back.

“That didn’t sound like a question.” Eric Bittle, in all his southern glory, has once again popped up from the shadows when Jack needed it most. “You’re also proposing quite a speculation there, Tom. Like always.”

“Oh my fu- You’re so unprofessional, Bittle!” Tom, Jack realizes, is the same reporter that gave him trouble last time. 

“Hey, I ain’t the one talkin’ about an offensive speculation.” Eric says breezily, focusing his attention back on Jack. “Alright, Mr. Zimmermann, that game seemed to be rough for you--”

“He didn’t answer my question.” Tom glares at Eric before practically shoving his own microphone in Jack’s face. 

“Please don’t interrupt.” Jack suddenly says, eyes flickering to Eric, who had a pleasant and welcoming smile on his face.

“Right, as I was sayin.” 

***

Thomas Caswell and Eric Bittle are known for having a feud in the world of social media. Jack couldn’t help look up both reporters, and the first thing that comes up is when Eric first defended Jack during a presser months ago. Thomas was in his early forties, while Eric was in his mid-twenties, basically just starting out. Eric Bittle and Thomas Caswell constantly went back and forth on twitter, and Thomas went as far to even bash Bittle in an article. Thomas is also known for asking the, “hard questions”, which is why he’s so popular. He’s famous for making athletes stumble on their words. Eric Bittle has called him out for that too.

“So, I had to stalk this Eric Bittle guy after what happened last night,” Shitty says, feet propped up on Jack’s coffee table and laptop resting on his naked lap. “The dude actually went to the University of Pennsylvania. That’s an ivy league school, man.”

“I know it’s an ivy league school. What does it matter, anyway?” Jack challenges, his tone a bit annoyed.

“For one, he seems like a fucking genius because he was Valedictorian, which explains how he got a job straight out of college. Second, It’s the reason he only seems to show up when you’re playing the Penguins.”

Jack doesn’t know why he’s so interested in this guy, but whenever Shitty pries it always piques his curiosity. “Is he with their PR team? I thought he worked for the NHL Network.” 

“He’s brand new, Jack. He was probably assigned to a specific team. He doesn’t typically interview the Penguins, he just interviews the teams they play against.”

“Has he ever… Defended other players?” 

Shitty sighs dramatically and closes his laptop. “It’s what he’s famous for, Jack-O. Why do you think they keep him around? If it were some random reporter that no one really knows, the guy would probably get canned.” 

“Wouldn’t that mean he would have been fired already? Like in the beginning, when he first started out, they had no idea he would be famous.”

“He used to run a blog, that’s where they found him.” 

Jack can’t help but laugh, and he gives Shitty a pointed look. “You sure know a lot about this guy.”

“I’m a lawyer, Jack.” Shitty pats his arm. “I’m great at stalking people.”

“How do those two things even correlate?”

“You’d be surprised.” 

***

The past four games have been a loss for the Providence Falconers, so when Jack and his team lose to Pittsburgh again in overtime after coming so close… He’s in a terrible mood. 

However, Jack is the captain and he’s required to give a statement on how hard they worked, and reassure fans that they will keep the spot they currently hold in their division, which will send them to the playoffs. 

It’s been about a minute of legitimate questions, ones that are easy to answer because they involve hockey and teamwork. Then, Thomas Caswell (of course), says something so over the top Jack just stared in shock. 

“Your performance has been less than usual lately. There has been intense speculation that you might have reverted back to drugs --”

“You have got to be kidding me, Tom.” Jack isn’t surprised it’s Eric Bittle who steps in. “I didn’t hear the word hockey, puck, or overtime once in that sentence.” Eric Bittle’s voice is strained, and Jack is surprised with how angry the man looks on Jack’s behalf. 

“Not this again, Bittle.” Tom hisses, his eyes not wavering from Jack’s. “You should be fucking grateful they even let you in here.”

Jack didn’t know what Tom meant by that, but by the look on Eric’s face, he sure did. “You’re a joke. Who let you be a sports reporter, Tom?” Bittle counters, his voice extremely passive aggressive to a point it’s almost scary. “You should work for People magazine with all these rumors you’re tryna spread. I feel like that’s where you belong.” 

Jack didn’t expect it, and neither did anyone else in the locker room. Eric didn’t expect it either, guessing by his reaction. Jack has never, not even fathomed, a reporter using physical violence on another reporter. 

The punch wasn’t meant to break anything, but it wasn’t any less violent. It hit Eric’s nose, so the younger man dropped his microphone as he held a hand over his face. 

To no one’s surprise, Thomas Caswell is escorted out as Eric stares after him, still stunned. 

“That was rude.” Eric mutters, and Jack is so thrown off by Eric’s dismissive reaction he chuckles a little bit.

The whole situation was almost unheard of, but it didn’t take long for the Falconers PR to clean up the situation. Eric Bittle was escorted by the team trainer to get patched up, while the other presser were escorted out of the locker room.

“Seems like you have fan, Zimmboni.” Tater laughs, slapping a hand on Jack’s back while shaking him a little. “You go make sure he is okay.” 

Jack will, but he takes a shower first. He probably smells disgusting and looks it too.  
By the time Jack is dressed and his stuff is packed, he checks to see if Eric Bittle is still around. Of course, he prefers that he isn’t because Jack hates this type of confrontation, or just confrontation in general. 

Bittle is sitting on the edge of the examination table, swinging his feet back and forth while he scrolls through his phone. Jack clears his throat, because he doesn’t want to say the first word. Eric glances up and a small smile plays on his face. He has a bandage across his nose and it looks a little bruised. “Hello there, Mr. Zimmermann. What brings you in here?” His voice is a slightly nasally from the pressure wrapped around it.

“I wanted to see if you were, uh, doing okay…” Jack leans on the doorframe, watching Eric Bittle’s face go through several different scenarios. 

“That’s awfully kind of you. I’m doing alright, though. It’s not even broken.” Eric Bittle hops off the table and walks over to Jack, extending a hand. “Nice to officially meet you.” 

Jack glances down at the hand for a few moments before shaking it. It feels small in his, but extremely warm. “It’s nice to finally meet the man who defends me all the time.” 

Eric gives him a laugh as he pulls away his hand. “If you look at it from my perspective, I’m here to talk about hockey not about your personal life. That’s your business.” 

“You are the only one who seems to think so.” Jack doesn’t mean it to come out bitter, but he can’t help it. 

“That’s because I’m the best of the best, Mr. Zimmermann. I only focus on actual news, not that junk I like to call gossip.” 

Jack gives him a genuine smile, but he also isn’t reckless. This man was still a reporter afterall, and the presser were sneaky. Parse almost got caught sucking someone off months ago, because a reporter pretended to be a man who knew nothing about hockey. 

Eric seems to notice his change in demeanor, but he doesn’t say anything. “I’m really okay, I ain’t gonna go suing your organization or anything. I’ve dealt with bullies all my life, this isn’t the first time something like this has happened.” 

Jack can’t help himself but frown, because Eric Bittle didn’t seem like the type of person to piss people off. According to Shitty, he actually has a large fanbase of people relying on his work. 

“Wipe that look off your face.” Eric laughs, and the warmth of it genuinely stuns Jack for a moment. There didn’t seem anything condescending about the way Eric spoke to him, and Jack has heard the passive-aggressive Eric Bittle several times. “I figured you knew why he said I was “lucky to be in the locker room”. Which is so a thing a forty year old man would say.”

“Is it because you’re new?” Jack tries, but Eric only shakes his head. 

“It’s because I’m gay.” Eric waits for a reaction from Jack, but Jack doesn’t know why. Then he slowly realizes why Eric looked so upset right before Tom punched him. “Listen, Tom asking you about your sexual preferences all the time just so he can make some offensive speculation makes me and a lot of people really angry. He also thinks it’s ‘unprofessional’ for me to be in men’s locker rooms. I’m surprised I haven’t punched him yet, to be honest.” 

“You don’t deserve to be treated that way.” Jack says bluntly. He’s never one for subtlety.

Eric falters for a moment, and Jack becomes tense again. He’s a reporter. Be careful. “No one does, really.” Jack adds. 

“You’re a good guy, Mr. Zimmermann.” Bittle finally says after a long pause, then pats his chest. “Just remember, the questions we ask don’t always need an answer. You’re a hockey player, not a reality TV star.” 

***

Providence doesn’t play Pittsburgh until both teams are fighting for a spot in the final round of the Stanley Cup playoffs. They were playing on Penguins’ home ice, and in the end, Pittsburgh won by two goals. 

Jack has been close to winning the cup before, but never this close. His team is usually kicked out in the first or second round, but this is the first time he’s ever held onto hope for a win. 

Jack looks for Eric this time, but he’s not there. He must be with Pittsburgh right now, considering how big of a win this was. Jack didn’t like himself searching for the blonde, because he knew what that meant. He’s not as oblivious to his attraction as he used to be.  
Before Jack can wallow in self pity after the loss, Tater drags him to a local bar to try and cheer him up. Jack typically doesn’t drink (because once an addict always an addict) or dance, especially during times like these, but Tater’s loud and optimistic attitude always seems to cheer him up just a little bit, so he gives in. Besides, Tater on the dance floor is a form of entertainment all in its own.

Even though there are dozens of people here, they still get recognized. Jack and Tater have only been here for thirty minutes, and people can’t seem to leave them alone. Tater likes the company, because fans keep buying him free alcohol even though he doesn’t have to worry about expenses. A girl slides in their booth to settle herself next to Jack, and even though he admires the boldness of her move, it wasn’t welcomed. The last thing Jack wanted was to get involved with someone right now--

“Mr. Zimmermann? I didn’t peg you for a party boy.”

Nevermind. 

Jack has never seen Eric in something other than a suit and perfectly kept personna. But of course, because the universe wants him to die a little, Eric is wearing skin tight jeans and tight white shirt that doesn’t leave much to the imagination. For a reporter, Eric is in pretty good shape. His blonde hair is tousled and he looks a little flushed.

The girl was gone, and Jack wanted nothing more than for Eric Bittle to replace the empty space next to him. Tater was gone and lost in the crowd, probably dancing and entertaining like he usually does. Jack planned on sitting here the entire night so he could drive him home safely… But Eric Bittle seemed like extremely nice company right now.

“Mind if I take a seat?” Eric raises an eyebrow, and Jack only shrugs as he tries not to stare but Crisse....

God dammit.

“I’d buy you a drink, but I’m assuming you’re the designated driver?” Eric holds his head in his hand, giving Jack his undivided attention. 

“You’d be assuming right.” Jack says, but he doesn’t continue. He doesn’t really know what’s going on here, and he feels like the two of them are in an awkward equilibrium of assumptions. Jack knows the wheels were turning inside of Eric Bittle’s head, but in no way was Bittle about to make the first move. 

“You weren’t at the presser today.” Jack says to break the silence. 

Eric’s smile becomes more flirtatious and Jack is momentarily distracted, but he lets Eric’s voice bring him back in. “Did you miss me, Mr. Zimmermann?”

Jack really doesn’t know how to answer that. He wants to trust this man, and from Shitty’s research he doesn’t seem like the sneaky reporter that nearly cost Kent his career. “Tom wasn’t there to attack me today.”

“Yeah, he was fired.” Bittle shrugs absently, like it was no big deal. “Thank god he’s gone. Maybe some gossip magazine will pick him up.”

Jack can’t help but laugh, and he also can’t help that he notices the way Eric lights up. He really, really wanted to take him back to his hotel room. It was a stupid idea, though. He would be outing himself to a man he hardly knows. Besides, Tater hates Ubers so Jack had to make sure he got back safely. 

“I heard you’re a genius.” Jack just wanted something to say, because the same silence settled over them again. His face grew immediately warm, though. He basically just admitted he stalked Bittle online.

Eric doesn’t seem to think that, or he’s just really good at hiding the fact he does. His face grows red too, and he avoids Jack’s eyes. “Not really, I mean, it’s all relative.”

“You shouldn’t downplay your achievements.” Jack points out honestly. 

“Neither should you.” Eric retaliates. “I know people compare you to your father all the time, and I know me saying this will probably have no affect on you, but you are your own person, Jack. Just because other people compare you two, doesn’t mean you should too.”

Jack, once again, has no idea how to reply to that. For one, he’s a bit annoyed that Eric has made that assumption. Second, he’s also annoyed that Eric is right about that assumption. He says the first thing that helps him deflect his own feelings. “Are you going to put this in an article?” Jack sounds extremely irritated to his own ears, and he internally cringed at that. 

Eric raises an eyebrow that tells Jack he’s surprised by the accusation. “Off the record. Didn’t realize that needed to be said. If you don’t see me with a recorder and a mic, I’m off the job. I’m not always working, Jack.” 

Jack opens his mouth to maybe apologize for reacting that way, thinking Bittle is mad at him, but Eric just gives him a soft smile. 

“I didn’t mean to be intrusive. I’ll leave you be. I didn’t think you might some alone time, I kind of just sat down--” Bittle gets up from the seat across from Jack, and makes his way to be swallowed up by the crowd, but Jack stops him before he even realizes what he’s doing. 

“Wait. I got nervous.” Then Jack makes another decision, one he’s probably going to regret later. Jack slides over in the booth, indicating for Eric to join him. Right now, with Eric Bittle in those tight jeans, he doesn’t care about his stupid decision at the moment.

Eric is discreet when he slides in next to Jack. He’s not too close, just in case someone snaps a picture, but he presses his foot against Jack’s calf under the table. When Jack doesn’t move it away, Eric takes that as encouragement. 

“Some of those rumors aren’t just rumors.” Jack says quietly, leaning his head slightly towards Eric. “They just aren’t people’s business.” 

“Hmm.” Eric hums, trying to read Jack’s face. “That kind of makes me not want to stay here.” 

Jack raises an eyebrow in confusion, not quite understanding what he was saying. 

Eric pulls away and stands up, and just as Jack’s stomach drops, he turns towards him with a small smirk on his face. “I think we should leave.” 

***  
Jack is the first to wake up, and as the sun filters in, he expects Eric’s place beside him to be empty. It’s not, though. His eyes are closed and he looks peaceful, and the sun that hits his blonde hair makes Eric Bittle look impossibly warm. 

Jack waited for the wave of regret to hit him, but it never came. Especially when Eric’s eyes fluttered open and a small smile stretched across his face. “You look happy this morning.”

Jack laughs a little. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Eric just yawns as he does a half-hearted shrug. “It wouldn’t be the first time I was promptly told to leave. I’m kind of used to it by now.” 

That kind of ruins Jack’s mood, because Eric Bittle didn’t deserve that kind of treatment. He tells him as much, too. 

“I know.” Eric smiles as his eyes roam over Jack’s bare chest and back up towards his face again. His eyes must catch something he doesn’t like, because now a frown is on Eric’s face. “Oh lord, I didn’t mean to do that.”

Jack isn’t aware what he’s even talking about until Eric reaches over and places two fingers on Jack’s neck. The pressure causes Jack to wince a little. 

“You have concealer?” Eric gives him a playful look, and Jack can’t help but return the same look. 

“No, but I’ll wear a scarf.” Jack jokes without realizing it. 

Eric laughs at that, which mon dieu, is that a wonderful sound to hear first thing in the morning. He glances at the clock over Jack’s shoulder, and the joy is gone as his face fills with disappointment. “Ugh. I need to get to work in two hours.” He pauses, contemplating something, before he asks, “You want to join me in the shower?” 

And that’s a “Yes.” without hesitation. In the shower, Jack felt a stinging pain on his back and discovered several scratch marks that broke his skin. 

“Sorry.” Eric’s face was really red and Jack couldn’t help but laugh. 

They get off one more time in the shower, even though Jack protests when Eric drops to his knees.

“That’s going to hurt later--”

And Eric had replied before Jack even finished speaking, “Shut up, Zimmermann.” 

Eric waits at the door in the clothes he wore last night, and gives Jack a sad look. “I’m gonna miss you, Zimmermann.”

Jack feels his stomach drop. “Why? Are you moving or something?”

Eric raises an eyebrow as he places a soft hand on Jack’s cheek. “I was under the impression this was a one time thing.”

“No way.” Jack can’t help but laugh at Eric’s surprised expression. “I’ll text you.” 

“But--” Eric frowns. “I don’t see you that often and you have your career and I’m certainly not worth a career like yours and technically you are my job which is unprofessional--”

Jack cuts off his rambling with a quick kiss, but Bittle deepens it anyway so they are making out for a full five minutes before Jack finishes his thought. “If you don’t want to, I’ll leave you alone--”

“Yeah, no chance I’m giving up this prime opportunity.” Eric’s smile is so bright, Jack can’t help but mirror it. “You better text me, Zimmermann.”

“Oh, I will. You can count on that, Bittle."


End file.
